Let's Redecorate
by Hatheny Lurey Dralaw
Summary: Iris learns that she cannot make a family with magic, though magic can certainly help it along. What magic can make, however, is something Number 12 Grimmauld Place never saw coming…Girl!Harry and Sirius bonding, featuring arson, explosions, a bit of angst, a lot of laughter, and mischief well managed.
1. Chapter 1

It was bad enough, Iris decided, that she had been isolated for four weeks at the Dursley's and that Dumbledore along with the Weasleys and other adults were keeping things from her for no adequately explained reasons. No; what really made it worse was that although she should be enjoying what remained of her summer because she was with her friends and _Sirius_ (finally!), away from the Dursleys and Dudley's stupid gang and no magic, and even though they had long since apologised for the lack of letters, she _couldn't_ enjoy herself because everything felt wrong. So when the others had all gone off to do shopping or something, Iris had resolutely stayed put, despite the anxious and guilty expressions of her friends, and tried to wish away her anger.

It was the house, she decided, looking around. Dark and dank and dusty and a hundred other things beginning with the letter d and carrying right through the alphabet, none of the words good and none of them desirable. Her fingers scratched the dirt on the walls and her nose rediscovered the smell of mould and dust and the rotten wet rank of inefficient cleaning and the leftover of human sweat and skin long past and never exorcised.

It was also the way the adults were skittish around her and so frustratingly tight-lipped regarding…well, everything. It made no sense to her – surely if they wanted to keep her safe they would _tell her_ things instead of wrap her and all the other 'children' in cotton wool?

Her fingers curled against the wall, the patterned wallpaper mottled and weary. Last year she had watched Cedric die. This year he was still dead, and he wasn't ever going to come back. It was, in her professional opinion as a seasoned Voldemort-escape artist, entirely too late for cotton wool. The flat-faced snake man wasn't going to wait for them to grow up.

This house, she thought, was just _horrible,_ and she curled up behind a chair in the library and buried her head beneath her arms. She wanted Hogwarts. She wanted her friends and the adults to stop giving her looks out the corners of their eyes. She wanted Sirius –

Well, she wasn't sure what she wanted from Sirius. What she was getting certainly wasn't what she wanted, that was for sure. She got wistful smiles when she entered the room and awkward pats on the shoulder when she really wanted a hug so badly and long silences when she asked for stories about _before_ and it all made her wonder if he meant it – did he mean it? When he said; _come live with me. I'm not too great, Iris, but we can be a family, like we were meant to be, like what Lily and James wanted –_

But instead of getting a family she got a man who wandered from room to room and never seemed to know what to say to her. He would talk a little, then get embarrassed and stutter to a stop, smiling ruefully and saying, _"Well, er, we were just lads back then really –", _as though girls were less inclined to hear tales of mischief. She wondered, vaguely, if it would have been easier to connect if she were a boy. The few letters they had written to each other were so easy; was it because they were now face to face and he didn't know how to talk to a girl? It wasn't as though she were fiercely girly. She did like flowers, although due to years of forced labour gardening had lost all its charms. She wasn't particularly inclined towards to colour pink, although yellow had its merits. Purple was even better. Were those feminine colours? Horses – well, obviously. Horses were bloody brilliant; who didn't like horses? Mad, sad, miserable people, that's who. And she liked dresses, but only because they required astonishingly little effort to wear and not because they were pretty and feminine. Dresses were _easy_ as anything and it was simple enough to cover up if they didn't fit right, unlike jeans, which never fitted quite right no matter where they were bought. The second she saw the 'jumper-dress' in a Muggle magazine she had fallen in love and resolved to marry whoever had invented it.

Did Sirius know all these things?

The thought came from nowhere and surprised her so much that all other trains of thought shuddered to a halt. Could she say she was making just as much effort as him? No. Probably not, now that she thought of it. What she should really do is be upfront about it, like a Gryffindor - like how Ginny was about the boys she liked. Just walk straight up to him and say, I want to be a family, so let's be one.

Her face re-buried itself in her arms. Suddenly the empty room seemed to laugh at her, the musty air becoming a miasma that weighed down her limbs. What was wrong with her? He wanted to be a family too, didn't he? Where's that lioness courage, Potter?!

The door groaned and she jumped, her head popping out of her arms and her hair flying everywhere. Spluttering, she tried to untangle it from – well, everything; her mouth, eyes, necklace. The glasses were the worst, strands of hair impossibly twined around the nose and hinges.

"Ow," she said, pulling in the wrong direction despite years of weary practice. She heard a low chuckle and realised that Sirius was in the room. Peering through her bangs, she saw his blurry figure standing a little away, hunched slightly.

"No, don't mind me," she said, raised her hands, her hair twisted around her fingers. "I'm perfectly fine. Don't try to help at all." She had the vague idea that she looked rather like a bush, or a weeping willow, with its mottled, feathery branches tangled in the riverside reeds. No, actually; there was no way her hair was as pretty as a willow.

Sirius chuckled again, clearly his throat. "Need a hand?" he asked, his foot sliding forward for a whole second before his body reluctantly followed. Blinking, Iris shook her head.

"I was only being half-sarcastic," she told him, delicately fiddling with her glasses with one hand as the other painstakingly picked out each hair one by one. "This is a very precise procedure. Too many chefs, and all that."

"Right." Sirius sounded like he wasn't entirely sure what she meant. She was used to that, so that was alright. "You could just cut it."

Iris forcibly parted her hair so she could stare at him, affecting a dramatic horrified expression. "It's my _hair."_ She clumped it together in her hands for emphasis. "If I cut it every time it got caught in something, I'd be bald!"

This got a louder chuckle from Sirius, who folded himself on the floor across from her. "So then, little petal, what are you sitting on the floor of the library for?"

"I didn't fancy sitting on the seats," she replied, only half-untruthfully. The other half of the truth was something she didn't entirely understand, but suspected it mostly consisted of defeatist attitudes. Sirius's face twisted.

"I don't blame you," he said. "Rotten things. Made from the pelts of magical creatures. The old hag used to boast they were centaur pelts, but I can't imagine any wizard wanting to risk getting close enough to a centaur just for the horse pelt."

"Ugh." Iris glanced at the furniture with a new eye, taking in the age-blackened covers.

"That one you're next to is – was the old man's armchair. He'd sit there every night with his pipe and read papers and things. You didn't interrupt him when he was reading; never. The house had to be utterly quiet. Even mother didn't make a sound. He executed house elves for breathing too loudly when they brought him his brandy."

Iris couldn't stop herself from grimacing. Suddenly garden duties and occasional chasings from Dudley's crew seemed pleasant in comparison to the childhood Sirius was hinting at. It occurred to her then that the house – dark, disgusting, and thoroughly unpleasant – that she was currently sitting in was the same house that Sirius had grown up in. He had _grown up_ in this house. This same house where once lived the kind of mother who would blast the faces of her own children off the ancestry tapestry and hang the heads of executed house-elves on display. It was a wonder he was still sane.

And he had spent twelve years in Azkaban.

She looked at him; thin (not wiry or slender), dark eyes (not born with them; circles, weariness, tired), unshaven (not trendy or rakish), loose dirty clothes, bitten nails, crooked teeth…

Yes. It was a wonder he was still sane. It was a wonder he was still _alive._

Now that she was _looking,_ Sirius seemed smaller now than he was five minutes ago, lost in his musings, his fingertips barely brushing the edges of trousers as filthy as the floor – Iris didn't think it was fair, really, that she should find some family only for them to be broken instead of whole. She felt like she had to fix him, then, and that wasn't fair either, was it? Why should she be the one to fix him when _he_ was the adult and _he _was supposed to be strong and help _her_ forget the past, and her rubbish childhood, because that's what it was – _rubbish_, and she didn't have to beat around the bush about it, did she? Because it wasn't fair, at all, that she should find a home and that it turned out to not be much _better_ than the one she left behind because Sirius had an awful childhood and he was broken and then had nothing but good memories with her dad and Remus when he left home –

Until it went bad. Until it went very bad for him, all over again.

Looking around at the house where Sirius lived when he was a child, her back to his father's chair, Iris came to a very solid realisation that although her childhood was rotten and she had distinct issues with that, Sirius's was certainly, definitely even worse. Beyond worse. Unfathomably worse. And if _she _was having issues with the kind of childhood she had had, then what on earth must Sirius be going through after his? After _Azkaban?_

She wanted a family – oh, she _wanted_ it like nothing she had ever wanted before. But families didn't come easy or cheap, because families were made up of _people_ first, and if _she_ had problems then Sirius absolutely did as well. But if he still wanted to work with her to create this family, despite the problems, then why was she just sitting there? She could spend her whole life running from the bad things in her life, curled up on the floor with her head hiding in her arms, unless she stood up and chose what mattered to her. She could _make_ herself a family, right there and then, if only she would try. It wasn't about Gryffindor courage. It was about being _honest_ to herself, in every possible way.

"This place is miserable," she decided, and an idea – delicious, impossible and utterly beautiful – came to her. Sirius let out a short bark of laughter, completely humourless and terribly despondent.

"Yes, it is," he said, letting his fingers fall away from the bookcase. "But it's all I have. The least I can do is offer it as headquarters – right now I'm not much good for anything else –"

"But it's still your house, right?" interrupted Iris.

"Well, yes."

"Sirius…" She hesitated, but ploughed ahead recklessly, desperately. "Did you mean it? I mean, about, I mean about being a family and all that."

Sirius's head darted up, his face anxious. _"Iris._ Petal. I was – of _course_ I was – I'd love nothing more than to make a home for you – for you to have someplace to live besides those Muggles – Dumbledore –"

"Yes, Dumbledore, all right," said Iris. "But, I mean – this world won't be dangerous forever. I know that one day Voldemort will be gone, and your name will be cleared and –"

"In a heartbeat, petal," said Sirius firmly. "You'll never have to go anywhere you want. We'll travel the world, causing mischief and mayhem, just like your old man would have wanted."

"And my mum?" asked Iris, grinning. Sirius glanced around a little shiftily, as though Lily Potter were suddenly about to appear from thin air, one foot tapping the ground, her arms crossed and a look of motherly fury on her face.

"Ah – well – we'll of course finish your education first," he said hurriedly, placating any eavesdropping ghosts of parental retribution. Iris laughed, her dark mood disappearing as swiftly as her courage resolved itself.

"So, this house is yours, then?"

Sirius's face fell a little. "Yes, it is. I'll be setting fire to it as soon as I can, rest assured."

"But for now you'll be living here..." Iris trailed off suggestively, waggling her eyebrows. Sirius frowned.

"What are you getting at?"

"What I'm saying is: you own this house. You'll be living here for some time. _We both have wands _– I can actually use mine because of all those wards people keep mentioning, which is one upside…and we're both a little bored."

"Sooo..?"

"Sooo…Sirius! Let's redecorate."

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"Let's redecorate!" exclaimed Iris, her hands clapping as she began to bounce herself off the floor. "Come on, it's your house now – you said so yourself! Let's tear out all the walls and banish all the nasty paintings and repaint the rooms. More windows, too – this place needs light!"

Sirius worked his mouth noiselessly for a few minutes, his confusion spinning across his face before a grin slowly bloomed on his face and a certain amount of mischievous evil lit up his eyes.

"Redecorate…" He said the word slowly, as though trying out the sound of it. "Sweet Merlin. Tear down the paintings and floors. Set fire to the old hag's room! Blow up the thrice-damned armchair! Obliterate the chandeliers! Great Merlin, **redecorate!"**

"Self-painting walls!" said Iris excitedly. "Wait, can you do that? And ceilings like the one in the Great Hall in Hogwarts! And huge fireplaces, like the common room!"

"Skylights," said Sirius quietly, happiness creeping his voice. "Slides instead of stairs!"

"An entire wall covered with a painting! Of ponies!"

"A swimming pool instead of a bath!"

"A _waterslide_ instead of a bath!"

"A waterslide _and_ a swimming pool!"

Iris began giggling uncontrollably in a way she could not remember ever giggling before, the fetid surroundings already seeming brighter and more cheerful with every plan made. As though some dark, heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Sirius's back straightened and he laughed, flinging his head back and challenging the dank room with a fierce grin.

"Well," he said, pulling out his wand. "First thing's first…" With one deadly slice of his wand, he neatly blew up his father's old armchair. Iris shrieked with delight.

"What spell was that?!"

"A variant of the blasting curse!"

"Teach me!"

The next ten minutes were spent reviewing a variety of spells, including vanishing, blasting, immolation and cutting. The next forty minutes were spent utterly destroying, burning, liquefying, vanishing and in one _highly_ memorable occasion, chasing down a mildly deadly magical creature that had been living in the walls. Running, stomping and jumping from room to room – glitter, fire, splashes of water and cake (an instance of transfiguration gone so wrong it became very right) – the giggles becoming laughter becoming cackling so evil it would have unnerved anyone in the vicinity had anyone been close by. Luckily, there was no-one close by; although this luck would shortly run out a few hours later when the Floo would flare, admitting one Mrs Weasley, who would scream in horror at the warzone she would arrived in.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs Weasley stared in abject horror, her mouth spluttering for words as the fireplace flared behind her. Ginny, sidestepping her mother, glanced once at the wreckage of a house before carefully taking the shopping out of her mother's arms before it was dropped to the floor.

_"Brilliant,"_ she said. "They're redecorating. About time, too; this place was _crap."_

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Arthur, we've been attacked! The house has been destroyed –"

"Mum, Dad's at work –"

They were cut short when a sparkling red and blue twisting slide crashed through the floor and landed right on top of the infamous troll foot umbrella stand, crushing it beyond repair (it would not be missed). Through her shock, Mrs. Weasley heard a tiny sound rather similar to the exclamation of a very surprised kitten and she stared in disbelief as Iris slid down the slide and landed beside them. Her grin was so wide she probably could have fit an entire box of Honeyduke's Finest inside her mouth.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley! We're redecorating – sorry about the mess –"

"She's not sorry!" yelled Sirius from somewhere above.

"You're just mad because I wanted a green slide!" shot back Iris, her grin undaunted.

"Green is for slimy Slytherins!"

"Or for my eyes!"

There was a short silence before quick muttering could be heard from the ceiling. The slide gave a brief shudder and became an emerald green with sparkling gold stars throughout. Iris gave it a very smug smile and winked at Ginny, who grinned back. Mrs. Weasley became rather faint.

"You've destroyed the house?" she said. "Oh my…" She jumped as the slide groaned and Sirius came flying down at a furious speed and ended up flying off and smacking into the wall when he landed. Iris and Ginny mercilessly burst into laughter at the sight. He shook himself like a dog, grimacing and rubbing his tender nose.

"No need to worry, Molly," he said. "Everything is under control, I assure you –" Then the ceiling screamed and a flood of pink water thoroughly doused him. The girls fell against one another laughing ("What was that?" "The swimming pool-slash-bathtub." "Flippin' _brilliant!")_. Sirius continued speaking with remarkable poise given the fact that he now smelled of strawberries and cream and cherry blossoms littered his person.

"I assure you," He coughed out a bubble. "I assure you that we have everything under control. Just a bit of redecorating, you know. Nothing to worry about. Just felt like a bit of a change, you know. And the house is _well_ overdue a make-over, don't you think?"

Mrs. Weasley's mouth started flopping like a goldfish, her expression mindlessly dismayed as she continued to stare at the unholy mess the house was in. Sirius, seeing that she remained unconvinced, smoothly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her into the kitchen.

_"Actually,_ Molly; I'm _so_ glad you dropped by –"

"You are?" Mrs. Weasley seemed to regain enough composure to become sufficiently aware that Sirius was, once again, acting suspiciously. Sirius nodded, entirely serious (in every sense of the phrase).

"Indeed. You see, young Iris and I are perfectly capable of redecorating such low-maintenance areas as the bathrooms or bedrooms, but the _kitchen –"_ His arm swept wide, encompassing the whole dirty, dingy room. "Unfortunately, we are completely at sea when it comes to _kitchens._ We were wondering if we could _perhaps_ have the honour of consulting you with a new design..?"

Mrs Weasley stared at the grimy kitchen…the massive, wide, grimy kitchen, with its huge cooker, endless cupboards, _gargantuan larder…_

"Well," she said, rather breathlessly. "I suppose I could suggest one or two things…"

Sirius quietly backed away from Mrs Weasley's expression as she raised her wand and advanced on the kitchen as a predator might advance on a wounded and dying prey.

"I think," he murmured to the two teenage girls beside him. "That we should exit post hastily before we're recruited."

Both the girls saluted and, as one, they all dashed up the stairs…towards mischief.

(~LR~)

"You have _got_ to let me help!" Ginny's arms cartwheeled in the air as she carefully navigated the heaps of debris littering the floor. Every few metres the floorboards were missing entirely, showing either the cobwebby underfloor or the rooms beneath. "How is this place still standing?! It looks like giants came through here, really. I honestly think you broke mum. Did you see her face? Brilliant. So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Sirius feigned confusion rather dramatically, sticking out his tongue and scratching his head. "Iris, do you have any plans? I know not of these 'plans' you speak of, little Weasley."

"Plans…plans…" Iris tapped her chin. "The word seems familiar somehow…does completely trashing the place sound like a plan to you?"

"Wanton destruction? Explosions, with a side order of fire? Yes, those sound like excellent plans, my dear." Sirius bowed extravagantly, allowing the two girls pass him, giggling, into one of the rooms.

"In all seriousness, though – yes, thank you, Sirius – there's not much of a plan to speak of," said Iris, turning to Ginny after examining the wreck of a room before them. "We just thought it would be best to gut the place and work out colour schemes later. I want a big bedroom, though; with an ensuite."

"Of course," nodded Ginny. "And naturally you have considered the possibilities of _ahem_ guests _hint hint_ needing their own personal rooms HINT."

Iris laughed light-heartedly, throwing an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Of course! There's plenty of room for my favourite under-fifteen female Weasley, isn't there, Sirius?"

Sirius grinned, hands on his hips. "Definitely! Not a problem! Just say the word, Mademoiselle, and I'll provide the wandwork!"

Iris could only laugh when Ginny's excitement became so intense so quickly all she could do was jump up and down and wave her arms frantically.

"Right – to business!" Iris clapped her hands authoritatively and Sirius and Ginny snapped to attention, Sirius going so far as to salute. "The way I see it is that this house – which we're renaming, by the way; I mean _Grimmauld,_ really?"

"Yuss, I _say."_ Ginny snorted with laughter after performing her posh accent. Iris grinned, remembering a few afternoons she and Ginny had spent imitating the overly posh accent of Pansy Parkinson.

"Quite, _quite,_ dahling."

Ginny stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. Iris dissolved into laughter, clearly high on the atmosphere. Sirius was trying to be serious, and failing completely.

_"Anyway._ This house has four floors, including the basement. We need the ground floors for practical things, like the kitchen and a meeting room –"

"And the floo," supplied Ginny.

"Exactly. We need at least four main bedrooms – two for Sirius and I and another two for guests – as well as at least…well, more than two bathrooms, at any rate."

"I vote four bathrooms per floor," said Ginny.

_"Four?"_ said Sirius.

"Trust me," she replied grimly. "I'm a Weasley and my house is called _the Burrow._ Four bathrooms, or at least toilets, per floor."

Iris and Sirius nodded solemnly, accepting her advice. Iris continued.

"Right, so that still leaves us with lots of rooms to work with. Any suggestions?"

"Rip out all the walls and restructure it from there?" said Ginny. "We'll just have to be careful of load-bearing walls."

"I second that idea," said Sirius. "We can make the corridors wider."

"Good," said Iris. "I, for one, heartily enjoy the idea of a swimming pool-slash-bathtub, but questions of – er, decency come into play."

"Regular old swimming pool then?" Ginny grinned. "That scented water smelled pretty fantastic."

"Agreed," said Iris. "So – here's an idea. Bottom floor is business, first floor for guests, third floor belongs to Sirius and I."

"What about the basement?" asked Ginny.

"Basements are disgusting," Sirius told her. "So we'll be doing that last. I vote we eventually put the swimming pool there, though. Now – we'll work from the top down?"

Receiving affirmations, the three of them marched military style up the stairs, cackling intermittently at the cries of shock, terror and disgust emanating from the few remaining portraits on the walls.

"Right. Top floor," declared Sirius. "Aside from the attic, which is just as bad as the basement and shall not be touched under any circumstances."

"Be nice if we could just straight up buy furniture and things for the walls instead of having to use our wands," said Ginny, eyeing the space they had to refurbish.

"Is it really difficult to make beds and closets from magic?" asked Iris, glancing at Sirius. "Is that why wizards don't just make everything? And why we buy and cook food instead of just conjuring things?"

"Basically," said Ginny. "We get taught in Hogwarts how to create chairs and tables and beds and transfigure fruit into cushions and things like that, but lots of people don't really have the knack for it. It's like, most people have the means to make their own apple pie quite easily, but it doesn't stop you from going out and buying one a professionally made one from a proper baker. Although you're getting conjuring food mixed up with summoning it from somewhere. You could definitely transfigure your clothes, but it takes someone like Professor McGonagall to get it perfect."

"Oh…like why everyone bought their robes for the Yule Ball," said Iris. "I suppose I'd prefer to go to a professional trunk maker or tailor instead of patching together my own clothes…or make my own pie every time I wanted one."

"Even if you could make your own clothes," Sirius chimed in. "All the spells are a bit irritating to learn – unless you have a knack for transfiguration like Ginny said, there's a different one for every little thing you would have to do. Things like cooking are easier by hand, and a solid wardrobe or bed is better made by a professional. But we'll make do – I'll get Mooney to take a look at my wandwork later and see if it's sturdy enough. Your father," He nodded at Iris. "Was the dab hand at transfiguration. I learned a thing or two from him, don't you worry."

Iris nodded, curiosity for the moment sated, and examined the number of doors on this one floor (_eight;_ who needed eight rooms?). "Is there a special spell to take away all the walls at once?"

Yes," replied Sirius. "But there is also a spell that destroys everything with very loud noises and substantial destruction. Which would you prefer?"

"Oh, the first one, Sirius," said Iris sweetly, batting her eyelashes. "We wouldn't want to cause any further unnecessary mayhem and destruction, after all." Ginny hmmed with agreement, and both of them screamed with delight when Sirius immediately blasted the walls with the second spell. In the resulting noise, dust and debris, the girls clapped appreciatively, giving out comments and approving noises when something exploded in a particularly impressive way. Sirius panted once he was done, his face gleaming slightly with sweat and his eyes flashing like they were on fire.

"Next!" he roared, striking again, fast as an arrow, ripping out floorboards and blasting away tapestries and bookshelves and beds and desks. Flashes, bangs and screams of air followed every slash of his wand, devastation rippling through the entire floor. He began to laugh; shrieking with joy every now and again when an explosion was particularly satisfying.

"I think he's enjoying this a little more than should be legal," whispered Ginny.

"Just have your shield charm ready," replied Iris in the same undertone. "I think he may have forgotten we were here."

Ginny nodded, absently vanishing pieces of wood or plaster while Sirius exacted justice – or revenge – on every last inch of his miserable family home. After a moment, Iris began to do the same. And if her vanishing was a little more vehement, each disappearing chuck of wall or floor curtain taken as solid proof that for her, they had completely triumphed over Sirius's awful family, who was going to notice? Or disagree?

Wheezing with effort, Sirius finally lowered his wand. They all stared at the utter devastation in silence before Iris spoke up.

"What was this place?" she said. "You know, before we blew it up."

"Just a spare room," said Sirius. He panted, swallowing thickly. "And my father's study down there. And my parents' bedroom."

"What's on the opposite side?" asked Ginny.

"Our rooms," replied Sirius. He jolted sharply, amending; "My room. And – my brother's. And another few spare rooms, for aunts and uncles and cousins and things."

"Which side would you like, Sirius?" Iris watched as Sirius's face slipped through a series of unreadable expressions. His face shuttered then, and he said;

"If it's the same to you, Iris – I'll keep my old room."

"So I'll get this side? Brilliant!" She clapped her hands together, trying to noisily dispel the gloom, which she hoped was only temporary.

"Vanish the rubbish?" said Ginnny hopefully, raising her wand. Iris nodded.

"And then we can start on decorating my room!" She raised her own wand, and with the three of them working quickly, short work was made of the debris.

(~LR~)

Meanwhile, below, the fireplace flashed with green fire and Hermione stepped out, immediately stopped, blinked furiously and proceeded to gape in horror for several long minutes, wearing much the same expression as Mrs Weasley did when she first laid eyes on the devastation.

"Wha – how – wha –"

Mrs Weasley bustled past, directing a stream of debris into a large pile in the corner. "Oh, Hermione, dear," she said airily, dusting her hands on her dirt-smudged apron. "Do mind your step. We've been redecorating, as you can see. Dinner will be a little later than usual, I'm afraid."

The fireplace lit up again and Fred, George and Ron crashed right into her in quick succession, nearly toppling her to the ground.

"OW! Hermione? What are you still –"

"– standing in the fireplace for?"

"Bloody hell!"

The three Weasleys stopped, staring with open mouths at the destruction before the twins broke into wide grins.

"Brilliant," they said, rubbing their hands. "Wonder if there's any left for us?"

Hermione spluttered, strode out into the hallway furiously, then shrieked as the staircase groaned and the remaining banister shivered until it became a smooth pink marble slide. The stairs twisted, becoming clean, fresh cherry wood. Whoops of delight could be heard overhead before a blur came streaking down the slide, landing directly in front of Hermione.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Iris, grinning maniacally. "Get out of the way!"

_"What –"_ Hermione's indignant snap was cut off as Iris dived to the side, pulling her along. Moments later Ginny came crashing into exactly the same spot as she had been standing in.

"We need to work on the landing," said Iris.

"And velocity," said Ginny.

"Velocity?" Hermione's head was dizzy. Ginny and Iris nodded.

"Yes –" said Iris.

"The ride down is bloody fast –" said Ginny.

"But it _can_ go faster." Iris finished with a wicked grin. Then, "INCOMING!", and everyone dived into the next room as Sirius came cannonballing down the slide, landing beautifully for a split-second before losing balance, careening straight into the wall, and bouncing to the ground, hard.

"Ow."

"Sirius, you are magnificent," said Iris gleefully.

"I know," he moaned, managing to roll over slightly before giving it up as a bad job and simply lying there, defeated by gravity.

"Bloody brilliant," chorused the twins, orbiting the various transformations with wide-eyed glee. Suddenly they stopped and frowned, glancing at each other in consternation.

"Hang on –"

"Are you bloody telling us –"

"That after all that awful cleaning –"

"You were just going to destroy the place anyway –"

"And we needn't have bothered with it in the first place?"

A moment of horrified silence was held by all present in memory of the lost hours spent in terrible battle waged against dust and evil dirt. Sirius, who had not really contributed much to the dirtier cleaning efforts, shrugged indifferently before pushing himself off the ground. Faint mutters followed him up the stairs as he made his way upwards to resume the work on Iris's room that had been interrupted by a flash of inspiration regarding the slide-stairs ("The smoother the material, the faster we go! Genius!").

"Well," said Hermione, her voice leaning towards tentatively suggestive rather than firmly decided. "It's probably better that we cleared out the house before they destroyed it, anyway. The creatures living here might have attacked if we hadn't gotten rid of them."

"Ugh, yeah," said Ginny, shivering. "Can you imagine? Reducto! And a swarm of Doxies explodes out of the curtains."

"Good point," said Fred.

"At least we got some research materials out of it," added George in undertone. Iris grinned.

"We've been busy redecorating my room," she said, waggling her eyebrows. Sticky, sweaty and dusty, the destruction had been like a cleanser on her insides, exorcising the darkness that had been dragging her down for months. Hearing the exclamations of interest from the others, she grinned and hopped up the stairs, panting a little as she skidded to a stop outside her new bedroom door. Sirius, fine-tuning a new marble fireplace, looked up with a grin.

"What do you think?" he said. Iris stared, knocked speechless with the sight of what Sirius had done to the room. Although they had all started out working on the room, the slide-stairs had quickly beckoned; while she and Ginny had been repeatedly testing said slide-stairs before the others had arrived (and before his own ill-advised trip down the new modification), Sirius had been quick at work cleaning away the debris and putting some of her ideas in action. As a result, the broken and battered room was now utterly transformed. Her new canopied bed, reminiscent of the Gryffindor dorm beds, occupied the far side of the room. The floors were shiny and dark; the walls covered in wallpaper patterned with small flowers. Horses cantered in a painting over the fireplace, which, under Sirius's wand, was slowly transfiguring into something worthy of the Great Hall in Hogwarts. She had shelves that matched the panelling, and a huge writing desk that matched the bed. There were two more doors at the furthest end of the room near the bed; one marked _Closet_ and the other marked _En Suite._ Irish lost any and all breath in her lungs as she stared at the room – _her_ room, it was _her room,_ her very own room, homely and extravagant all at once.

"Oh, _Sirius."_ Both her hands went over her mouth. Sirius glanced at her, his face softening, and he finished his work on the fireplace. It settled into its final form and spontaneously grew a fire in its belly as Sirius turned to her.

"Redecorating," he said, his hand on her shoulder and the other stroking her mess of hair as she struggled against her tears. "Was the best idea I've ever, ever heard. In my entire life. Iris. Look at me."

She struggled. The tears burst out when she lifted her face and he wiped them away with delicate care, his own eyes a little misty. "What a wonderful girl you are," he said. "So bright, so patient, so full of amazing and wonderful magic. I saw it the moment Lily and James brought you out, that day you were born. I was sold from that moment on – there are great things waiting for you. Greater –" He looked around, up at the ceiling, eyes dimming a little. Iris followed his gaze; the ceiling had yet to be refurnished. They had forgotten about the ceilings. "Much greater than this old house, full of misery in the walls. But I've been reminded of something I forgot a long time ago; that I have the power to change myself and the things around me, if only I have the brains to do it."

She moved forward, little by little, and they pressed into a hug, and she pretended that the sound of Sirius crying, manly and with difficulty, did not tear her apart inside; from relief, from joy at sharing the pain of loneliness.

"I'll make a home for you yet, my petal," he whispered. "It'll be glorious. With no bad memories. It'll be wonderful."

"Right now is sort of okay, Sirius," she said, her arms tightening. "Let's call it our practice house."

He barked with laughter and she began to laugh too, sniffling and crying and laughing until the sound and sight of each other brought new, cleaner laughter and they collapsed the hug, just looking at each other and smiling.

"I'm kind of looking forward to the future," she said.

"Me too, petal," he replied. "Especially since we've still got to redecorate the second floor, and your friends, by the sounds of it, are already there."

He nodded to the door, smiling honestly, and looked a little less dark under his eyes. She lit up, laughed again, and dashed to the door, grinning wildly and jumping down the stairs two at a time. In one of the rooms on the second floor all four teenagers were conversing seriously over a large sheet of parchment that was stretched out over the remains of a previously smashed table and detailed, apparently, plans for a ballistic showerhead. She saw the faces of her friends light up when they saw her; clear mischief in the twins, excitement in Ron and Ginny and tentative delight in Hermione, Sirius behind her smiling an unguarded, weary, happy smile –

And she felt at home. At last, she felt at home.


End file.
